Poem: aunties
Books & Poetry
Bygone views of suburbs and kin can be seen in this week’s Poet’s Corner contributions from Rory Harris of Adelaide.
aunties
a suburb
of aunties
who would
live forever
along the plane
tree avenues
of a childhood
of broken toys
& pay back
tears & the desertion
to different schools
& uniforms & rules
& a son’s working life
a drop kick away
as our parents
worked and slept & died
these women outlasting
their stern husbands
at the end of the street
drink
before the first drink of the day
my mother would walk her garden
bend & pull a few weeds
rattle a box of matches & strike a cigarette
more habit than larrikin
stuck at a Digger angle
& continue her bending & smoking
until the four o’clock sun is caught
in the apricot tree over the kitchen window
& return inside to pour
two good fingers & a little soda water
strike a fresh cigarette
then after the slap of plates & cutlery
two more drinks
before the chops are grilled
Rory Harris teaches at CBC Wakefield Street, South Australia.
Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to poetscorner@solsticemedia.com.au. A poetry book will be awarded to each contributor.
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